After the Rain
by Celestielle
Summary: Oneshot. "Why were you crying?" he asked her. She wanted to tell him that it was because they'll soon be saying goodbye to each other. But she couldn't. So she replied, "I wasn't crying. It was the rain." But she knew very well that he didn't believe her.


**After the Rain****  
**_written by: Celestielle_  
**  
about the story.** Hello there, and welcome to my first ever published oneshot. XD I actually began writing this several years ago; while browsing through the mess in my computer, I came across this half-written story and suddenly felt the urge to finish writing it, so here it is, finally! XD This fan fiction is Semi-AU (yes, it's alien-free; well, just because I wanted to make things more different... or more "normal" XD). Also, because I wasn't satisfied with that short, almost romance-lacking goodbye scene between Kanata and Miyu in the anime, I decided to write this mushy (okay, sentimental, if you'd prefer), hopefully romance-adequate alternative. XD Oh, and by the way, I don't have anyone beta-reading my stories, so please forgive this lazy author for any errors, if ever you would come across any of them. :) Please review after reading and tell me what you think! :) Thanks, and enjoy! :)****

disclaimer. Daa! Daa! Daa! belongs to Kawamura Mika-sensei. I only absolutely love playing with her adorable characters. (evil laugh)****

want music? I always put Yiruma's _Kiss the Rain_, a beautiful piano piece, on a forever loop in WMP whenever I re-read this fanfic. Just a habit, since I finished writing this with that song playing continuously (which explains the mushiness), along with Yiruma's other piano pieces, like _May be_ and _River Flows in You_. And I've always thought that _Kiss the Rain _goes well with this story. :) If you're fond of piano instrumentals, I recommend listening to those three songs--I think they're very soothing and calming. :)

* * *

**  
rain.**

Dark, heavy clouds were lingering across the skies. Almost everything was still and unbearably silent, except for the trees' leaves that were swaying as the cold breeze played with them and the dried-up leaves that were rustling as they scattered across the ground. The rain was clearly threatening to pour down in any second, and there were no other people around. No one chose _not_ to listen to the obvious warnings.

No one, except her. Sitting on a swing in the middle of the playground that she had always loved, alone but unwavering, she had decided to stay.

As if carried by the cold wind, little droplets began to descend; one small drop at a time at first, but a slow, lazy drizzle eventually. She lifted her head to look up at the gray sky, savoring the feeling of the light shower of raindrops wetting her forehead, falling across the bridge of her nose, kissing her lips.

But the rain fell down hard not too long after, replacing every calm raindrop. The rainwater felt very cold, she thought bitterly, that it was almost harsh. It continued to drench her school uniform into a creased mess that stuck uncomfortably onto her skin. The muddy water splashed onto her socks and shoes.

She ought to be embarrassed, she thought, wanting to laugh at herself. If he was there sitting beside her, she imagined, he would surely tease her about how she looked like a soaked, dirty little puppy, or about how her hair looked like a big unattended chaos, or about how ugly she was. And then she'd either throw him a punch, call him a coldhearted pumpkin-head, or tell him he looks just as ugly.

But she was stupid, she scolded herself, for even thinking that _that_--the endless bickering, the plain happiness of it all--will be how things are going to be forever. Inevitably, all endings are not supposed to be happy fairytale endings.

She covered her face with both hands, closing her eyes tight, fearing that the unwanted tears would soon start welling up. She tried to clear her mind, scolding herself once again. She, in the first place, came here to be alone, so she wouldn't see him. To shake off from her mind the thoughts that had been bothering her all day. But instead, her thoughts now all led to the things that she was trying hard not to think of.

But she tried. She tried to focus instead on savoring the sweet smell of the rain that she loves so much. She instead thought about how she doesn't like the way the rain makes her feel cold and uncomfortable and how it makes her feel so sad. She thought about how funny that is, because despite that, she still loves the rain. She thought about how she loves the way it falls so hard that a beautiful mist makes everything look hazy, the way it makes it hard for people to see your tears as they fall down your cheeks along with the raindrops, the way it understands.

Finally giving up to that ache in her chest, she let both hands drop from her face, bowed her head low, and, scolding herself again, she silently cried.

* * *

**  
fate.**

She had always believed that it was on that day four years ago that she first met him. She didn't realize how wrong she was until one day, when she was coerced into dusting the bookshelf off after not cleaning it for a century, she found an almost-discolored photo inside a dusty, forgotten photo album.

Amazingly, the photo was of her, when she was about four or five, with a familiar little boy. They were taking a bath together in an also incredibly familiar bathtub. It amazed her even more how she'd completely forgotten. It amazed her how more or less ten years after, she met that boy again.

They were both fourteen when they met again. Her parents had to fly to the US for a NASA space shuttle launch project, so she was sent three hundred miles to a town called Heiomachi so she could live at the Saionji family's house for the meantime.

All that her parents told her was that the actual construction of the shuttle and the rigorous training will take very long so it would be better if she doesn't live alone, and that the Saionjis, who were close family friends and whom she would temporarily live with, have a very big house with a great view.

What they apparently forgot to tell her was that that the "very long" actually meant "several years". And that the "very big house" was actually a Buddhist temple, not a mansion. And that Houshou-ojiisan loved to travel around the world for pilgrims, and that he is pretty much out of the country. And that Houshou-ojiisan has a son.

She didn't always get along with Houshou-ojiisan's son at first, but somehow, through the years, they have learned how to peacefully coexist. It was impossible not to. They spend almost each day together. They wake up seeing each other's faces first thing in the morning. They share the same bathroom. They make each other's meals. They run to school together. They belong to the same class. They sit only one chair apart from each other. They fight over trivial matters. They get on each other's nerves. They even have food fights.

When she thinks about it, it felt like having the big brother that she never had. Her friends, though, say that they look good together. They even believe that there's some kind of chemistry going on between the two of them.

Christine would always tell her that people have been searching too hard to find true love, but they're looking in all the wrong places. That they've always been blind to love, and that sometimes, love's just too close to them that they couldn't see it. But she'd always laugh at her friend, pointing out that she's plagiarizing a song that she really likes ("You've been searching the world to find true love, looking in all the wrong places, when all of the time you've been blind to love, as plain as the nose on your faces…").

Nanami would always say in her older sister type of voice that when the right time comes, she would be able to tell. She'd always thought that it was corny, but somehow, she felt that all of what her friends said was true. Maybe, just maybe, love had been right beside her all along. Maybe she'd just have to open her eyes and see it. And, who knows, maybe someday, somehow, she'd just know.

But there's only one thing that she doesn't think (or doesn't _want _to think) is true. Aya once had told her, "Maybe you and your fated guy have already even met when you were, say, four years old, and you didn't even realize it." For sure, that was only from one of her play scenarios.

Of course, she would never tell her about that picture taken in the bathroom.

* * *

**  
silence.**

Almost four years have already passed since she began to live in Heiomachi. But she could still clearly remember how she felt so out of place, miserably lost, and belonging nowhere. She could even remember how unbelievably stupid--and, hell, _tired_--she felt as she first dragged her feet up to the top of that long staircase that led to the Saionji temple.

Later on, after she'd brought up the subject out of the blue and complained about it, she started to argue with him about the number of steps that make up their _jigoku no kaidan_ (_staircase of hell_—that's what they fondly call it). They didn't stop fighting about it for days. She would say that it's 100, and he'd argue back that it's only 98 (Him: "Hey, I've lived here for all seventeen years of my life, darn it!").

One afternoon, to end all of the stupid staircase arguments for good, they decided to find out the real answer for themselves. They went home together after school, and side by side, they climbed up the staircase together, one foot at a time, slowly, silently, without saying anything. All she could hear then was the sound of the rustling leaves of the trees that line the sides of the staircase and the sound of both of their feet touching each stair at exactly the same time.

The funny thing was that she didn't feel the kind of tiredness that she had felt when she climbed it for the first time. The feeling was even entirely different from every day that they go back to the temple after school together. Was it only because she was used to the long climb? The reason was beyond her.

When they had reached the gate at the top of the stairs, there was suddenly a different kind of silence between them that surprised her. And maybe him, too, but she couldn't tell. They could only stand facing each other, looking at each other's eyes. In that silent moment, she could only think about this inexplicable feeling inside of her when she was with him, and suddenly she couldn't find the appropriate words to say. She didn't know if he was thinking about the same thing or if he's silent because of the same reason as hers. But she didn't mind it too much.

She only thought to herself: _Does it really matter? _Because it didn't feel uncomfortable. When she got to that gate for the very first time on that day when she was sent to live with the Saionji's, what welcomed her was the wide, empty temple yard. She could remember the disappointment and the discomfort that overwhelmed her. But at that time that they were standing in front of the temple yard that she'd grown to love through the years, looking at each other, she was more than satisfied. It was home.

All she could do then, after realizing this, was to smile. And he only smiled back at her, and then leaned forward to take her hand in his. They walked towards the door silently, while she relished each short second of it. She didn't know exactly why she was so satisfied. Maybe it's because she felt like she wasn't lost anymore and that she truly belong somewhere… or maybe because it felt good when she was with him like that.

Or maybe she just felt relieved that in the end, they were both ridiculously wrong. There were 99 steps, but they never talked about it again.

* * *

**  
questions.**

Four years have been so long. So many things have happened, so many things have changed. Remembering a lot of things made it clear that it had been a long adventure. But as they say, there's always an end to everything. She hadn't told him yet--she didn't have to courage to--but the space shuttle's launch date has finally been set. Her mother is going to space in a month. After the launch, her parents will be coming home to Japan for good, and she would then have to leave Heiomachi, her friends, and the Saionji temple.

And him.

She knew that everything had to change. She's already eighteen, and she's in her last year of senior high school. Soon, she'd have to leave for university, anyway. They're not anymore the fourteen-year-olds who just got stuck together under one roof. Everything is not fated to stay the way they are, and she has always known that. Maybe she just didn't want to think about it.

But she doesn't understand why it hurts so much. Everything was just simple: she'd just have to return to the kind of life that she'd been living until four years ago. She'd finish high school back in Tokyo, and then she'd enter a university there. And she would meet more people—new ones. She doesn't have to be hurt; it's _just_ a boy. He's just... her Mr. What If. The source of all uncertainty. Suddenly, the questions flowed to her continuously, like a raging river:

What if her parents never went abroad, would they still have met again? What if she had ran away and never stayed at the temple, just like how she threatened him the very first day that they met, would he have followed her to take her back? What if he just never really said it, but he's actually tired of having her live in his house? What if she suddenly has to leave for good, would he stop her?

She felt another twinge in her chest. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. Hot tears were threatening to escape from her eyes. She closed her eyes tighter, mentally scolding herself for being such a pathetic crybaby. She bowed her head low and let the rain drench her, hoping it would wash away her sadness.

But the rain suddenly stopped falling.

She looked up. There was a clear umbrella just above her head.

It was him.

"Can I sit here?"

Without waiting for her answer, he sat down on the empty swing next to hers. She wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but she couldn't speak. She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn't find her voice.

"I guess it was no use asking since I'm already sitting," he added. "Hey there, ugly one."

Everything seemed to her like a familiar romance movie scene, hadn't he said "ugly one" just in an attempt to lighten the mood. The clichés, the handsome leading man, the romantic setting. Somehow, she felt strange to be actually the one living in the fairytale.

But was everything really true? It was too good to be true. She wanted to pinch her cheek to check if she was dreaming. She stared at him long enough to make sure that she wasn't imagining him, his messy coffee hair, his gentle eyes, his warm smile. But he was so close that she could feel the comforting warmth of his body close to hers. Their knees were almost touching, but he never pulled them away. They just sat there, not talking, not making any sound or movement. Only looking at each other's eyes.

She looked away, somewhere, anywhere. Something told her that if she continued to look at him, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from saying things she shouldn't be saying. Like a goodbye one or two months from now.

Or maybe, she thought, this hesitation to tell him what's going on was just because of her fear. Fear of what, though? It took her a while, but it suddenly hit her hard: She fears the reality. She found herself suddenly wishing: _Can't we just stay like this forever?_

Thankfully, he never said anything. They never looked at each other again. All she could hear were the raindrops hitting the umbrella, _tip, tap, tip, tap_. All she did was stare at her hands that were resting on her lap and feel the rise and fall of his chest in time with his breathing.

"Something tells me that if I don't speak now, we'll be like this all afternoon."

But she didn't dare move an inch. She didn't say a word. To the point when her lungs can't take it and she needed to breathe, she held her breath.

He breathed out a sigh and murmured, "Aren't you at least going to ask me why I'm here?"

She hesitated for a bit before she finally worked up the courage to speak. "So why are you here?"

She knew that he smiled, although she didn't look at him. It felt like he was relieved that they were now on speaking terms, and that she wasn't in a don't-talk-to-me mood. "I was just taking a walk, and it so happens that I saw you looking stupid while sitting here. So, you know. Perfect coincidence."

But he doesn't take random walks, she knew him better than that, her mind argued. He wasn't even supposed to be there, sitting with her.

"But you're not supposed to be here," she pointed that out to him.

"And where am I supposed to be?"

"At home, making dinner. It's your turn to cook tonight."

"Well, you're not supposed to be here either."

"Where am I supposed to be?"

"At home, eating with me."

Something about what he said made her heart skip a beat. _Home, _he had said. _With me_. She was sure he heard him right. Something about his words made her look at him straight in the eye for the first time. It was then that she realized that he wasn't holding the umbrella above the two of them.

He was holding it only for her.

He was there, looking back at her, sitting under the rain, soaking, being insane. His chocolate hair was as messy as hers were. His school shirt was also as soaked as hers were. His black shoes were as dirty with mud as hers were.

"Are you stupid?!" Her surprised voice seemed to echo through the whole playground.

"Maybe." He only grinned.

"You brought it, so use it!" She pushed his arm holding the umbrella away towards him, but he didn't budge.

"I don't need it." He was still grinning.

"And why is that?"

"I brought it for you, idiot."

"Aren't you cold?!"

"I'm fine with the rain. I love cold baths during winter." He grinned. "Do you have any more questions, ugly one?"

She hesitated again. Because of fear, her mind scolded her once more. To hell with it. "How did you know that I was here?"

"I know you better than anyone," he simply said, still smiling. "Now it's my turn to ask you a question." Suddenly, his voice sounded so different, his eyes became a little bit serious. "So why are you here?"

She looked at him, and then quickly glanced away. "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because we're going to have another fight if you don't tell me."

"Oh, come on, when are we _not_ fighting?"

"When you're not being so stubborn."

"See, _you're _the one who starts the fights, not me."

"What's bothering you?" he suddenly asked, and she stopped.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Why don't you stop getting involved with other people's business?"

"See, you're being stubborn again. And you're starting another fight."

"But _you_ asked me first!"

"Because I think I have something to do with it. Do I?"

There was another silence. Another silence that she hated. He was asking her questions that she didn't know how to answer.

"Yes and no." She shifted uncomfortably. "Anyway, just go home and cook dinner, okay—"

"What does that mean?"

"You're impossible. Could you just run home and get the laundry? They'll take forever to dry—"

"Why are you avoiding the topic?"

"I'm not avoiding the topic."

"So why were you crying?"

Suddenly, her Mr. What If was challenging her again. What if she told him that she's going to move back to Tokyo for good? What if she told him that they would never see each other again? What if she leaves, will he stop her? More "what if" questions were shot towards her, and she couldn't find any answer to any of them.

So she only replied, "I wasn't crying. It was the rain." But she knew very well that he didn't believe her.

* * *

**  
answers.**

"Why can't you tell me?" he only asked her.

Everything seemed eerily silent to her. Even the rain seemed to fade to the background. She couldn't come up with the answers. She could only think of more questions.

"Nee," she murmured. "For example, you find out that your close friend, the girl you really liked a lot, was moving to a far place with her family, what would you do?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, his eyes seemed to penetrate hers. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Are you perhaps still jealous of Akira?"

"I said 'for example'," she retorted indignantly. But she feared that he would notice the warm color of her cheeks. "What makes you think that I'm jealous of her?"

"Well, Akira _was_ my close friend, and she _did_ leave for the US a long time ago. Or is it just a coincidence that the situation in your example sounds similar?"

"So were you actually in love with her?" she said in a false nonchalant voice. Inside, she feared what his answer would be.

"I liked her, but it's hard to tell now. I haven't seen her for years. And we were only ten then. "Being in love" is not part of children's vocabularies." He then grinned. "I think you _are_ jealous."

"No, I was just curious," she replied, softly this time. "So let's change the story. Suppose that _you_'re the one suddenly moving away. You're in love with someone, but you don't know if you should tell them or not. Are you going to tell them your feelings? Or are you just going to leave things the way they are because you're okay with how you two get along? What are you going to do, knowing that nothing would still change the fact that there's only a small possibility that you'll see each other again?"

He became quiet for a while, that she thought that he wasn't going to answer her question. She was already thinking about how she could casually change the topic when he finally said in a low voice, "What would _you_ do?"

"I was asking _you_."

"Just answer."

She gave up. "I want to tell him that I don't want to leave him, that I want nothing else but to stay..."

"Why can't you?"

"I'm scared."

"Don't be."

How does he make it sound so easy?

"I hate you. Why is it so hard to leave you? I hate you. I hate you!"

"In that case, I hate you, too."

She didn't get the chance to speak. His lips, warm and soft, and gentle against hers, erased all her confusion, her doubts, her worries. She closed her eyes. The kiss tasted of the rain. She felt both of his big hands cupping her cheeks, holding her firm and close to him. It was only then that she realized that he had put the umbrella down on the ground, and that they were now both under the rain. But she didn't mind. The rain didn't feel so cold and harsh now.

They broke apart, looking at each other's eyes, their lips still lingering near each other's. The same kind of silence that they experienced during that day that they climbed the temple's stairs together and counted the steps returned. But now, she understood what that silence, _this_ silence, meant. Then and now, they both understood.

"But I'll wait," he whispered.

She closed her eyes. "You will?"

"Don't you want me to?" He kissed her forehead, the top of her nose, then full on her lips. Slowly, as if he held plenty of time in his hands. As if he wasn't planning to let go.

"I don't want to force you." She put his arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Well, if you don't come back, there are still other girls. Those who aren't ugly. They'll keep me company," he teased, placing his arms around her back, pulling her closer.

"If I don't come back, that means I've found other guys. Those who don't like pumpkin. _They'll_ keep me company."

For a short while, he didn't say anything. She opened her eyes and saw his sad ones, gazing at her longingly. Sad, but smiling eyes. Sad, but full of hope.

"If you don't come back, I'll come for you this time."

She swallowed back so much tears that it became hard to breathe. But she smiled. "If I don't come back, come and take me home."

They kissed again, a slow, long, bittersweet kiss, a longing kiss. When they finally parted, she didn't know if the wetness in her cheeks were only from the rain. Maybe it was from her tears, or his, or maybe both.

* * *

**  
after the rain.**

"The rain's stopping."

She only smiled in response. Her cheek was still leaning against the warmth of the crook of his neck. His arm was still around her waist, holding her close to him. His other arm held the umbrella over the two of them. Four years ago, it would have been awkward between the two of them. But now, she didn't want to move. She wanted to stay that way. She didn't want the rain to end.

But she could see that the rain was falling more gently, slowing until it became just a drizzle. The light shower soon felt like they were only soft, individual drops. The sky was still gray, but the clouds were now lighter. A light wind was still blowing, but she didn't feel too cold. The rain was, indeed, ending.

She felt him reach for her hand, holding it tight. He then whispered, "Come on, let's go home."

_Home._ She smiled inwardly, savoring the sound of it as she repeated the word over and over in her mind. _Home_. It sounded good.

"Come on, it's cold," he added, wrinkling his nose.

"You said you love cold baths during winter," she teased.

"I loved warm baths with my blonde pigtailed playmate more."

Laughing, she looked up and saw the afternoon sun finally peeking out from the clouds. The final drops of the rain fell. He closed the umbrella, held her hand again, and pulled her up. And she let him.

"Here comes the sun…"

"_Na na na na na…_" he hummed.

"_Here comes the sun, and I say,_" they both sang, "_It's all right._"

* * *

**  
author's notes. **Little darlin', it's been a long cold lonely winter! Little darlin', it feels like years since it's been here! Here comes the sun, na na na na na! Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right!! :) Oh, how I love that song. :) By the way, I don't own the songs "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles and "Open Your Eyes (to Love)" by LMNT. XD And oh, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! :)

**EDIT, December 12 2008:** To **CLAREM**, special mention ka dahil masama ka. Haha. Cheers for your sheer determination (and kulit powers) to search for my easily-recognizable account! :D**  
EDIT****, December 18 2008:** To "e di hulaan mo na lang ;p" a.k.a. **MIFUNE**, my ever-dearest, super tall, super friend: Yesss, cheese. I loove cheese. Hahaha. Thanks, dude. :) At para naman makaganti ako sa kasamaan mo: Everyone who reads this, do read her Slam Dunk fanfics, too. No cheese, just yaoi. :D

**dedication. **This story is for those of us who have patiently waited and who have been patiently waiting, to those of us who wanted to be waited for but were left behind and who have waited but have given up and walked on; and cheers to those of us who are still patiently waiting for that last drop of rain to fall. :)


End file.
